


Accuser of the Brethren

by georgiamagnolia, spikesgirl58



Series: Heaven and Hell [5]
Category: Man from Uncle - Fandom
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-29
Updated: 2012-07-29
Packaged: 2017-11-11 00:37:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/472494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/georgiamagnolia/pseuds/georgiamagnolia, https://archiveofourown.org/users/spikesgirl58/pseuds/spikesgirl58
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What motivated Velon to attack Napoleon?  A last ditch effort by a very underhanded demon, of course.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Accuser of the Brethren

There was a blinding light, the sound of a distant crash and suddenly he was standing here, with mist swirling around his ankles.  It reminded him of a Twilight Zone episode, but that was about a little girl and her dog.  He started to walk, for no reason other than it felt right.

Someone was approaching and he paused, then his jaw dropped.

“Ma?” He took a step and another figure stepped from behind her.  “Da?”

The next instant he was in their arms, hugging and kissing them.  “How I’ve missed ye!”

“As much as you’ve missed me?”

He turned, eyes wide open.  “Katie?  My Katie?”  He flung himself at her and they embrace, two lovers never meant to be parted.

Suddenly, Katie gasped and stood back.  “No, it’s not far… it’s time!”

He was aware of his body, suddenly growing translucent.  “No, I want to stay.”

 _It’s not up to you, but I can help._  He looked around and saw a shape, shimmering and faint.  Whenever he tried to focus upon it, it would fade from sight.  He looked away and it reappeared.

“How?”

“Don’t listen to him, son.  We’ll wait for you.”  His father sounded desperate, placing his body between son and shape.

“I don’t want to wait!”

“You must.”

_Don’t listen to them.  I can help you stay here._

“What do I have to do?”

_That’s the glory of it.  You do nothing, let me take over.  I will return in your stead._

Why do you want to go back?

_Unfinished business._

“Do it.”

“No, sweetheart, it’s not worth…”

He opened his eyes and stared up into the startled faces of the doctors.  He grinned, sat up, and looked around.

“But you were brain dead…” one doctor sputtered.  “You were dead.”

“Surprise!”  And Vetis laughed.  It was good to be back.

                                                                                ^^^^

Of course, he wasn’t Vetis now… Now he was Velon McAllister, son of a minister, wasn’t that priceless?  And how Vet… no, Velon celebrated his return.  The city has never seen such a murder spree and the police could merely shake their heads and puzzle.  He was something they’d never encountered before.  Oh and how he played with them, it was to die for… literally in some cases.

But eventually, even a demon grows tired of the big city and yearns for some solitude.  He wandered from LA to San Francisco, still too big and headed inland.  The mountains were dotted with small communities, with even smaller police forces.  For a year, he polished his technique.  Velon had watched all ‘his’ old friends drift away, repulsed by the changes in their friend.  Women found him irresistible and there was never a lack of sex.  When he tired of them, he found that men weren’t hard to entice either.  He came to know and recognize the look, knew when to approach, when to avoid.  When he had neither man nor woman, he turned to his last target - children.  He tended to avoid them, however, as the outrage was always more indignant, the public focus a bit more concentrated.

And all the while, the poor chump he’d tricked out of his body hung in Purgatory.  That’s what he got for not paying better attention in Sunday School.  Of course, Vetis doubted the man’s father taught him about demons, about walk-ins, his loss really.

For years he played, took what he wanted, disposed of what became burdensome and then one day, he was aware of a stirring in – to say it was in his soul was just, well, stupid.  Never the less, Vetis was aware of a yearning.  He wanted to go home.  This body was beginning to grow tiresome, plus he wasn’t sure all was well.  There was pain where there hadn’t been before and a little flame licked at the back of his head telling him it was time to think about returning.

Ah, but that would be a trick.  His Master, he would not be pleased with Vetis’s little journey.  Even Lucifer had limits and this one would have been way beyond that.  No Vetis needed an angle, something to pave the way back home.  It had to be something so big, so wonderful, Lucifer would applaud him as a hero, perhaps even award him a legion of his own.  But what?

“Napoleon, I’m  not joking.  I won’t wear a polyester suit.”

“Why not, Illya, this color is perfect on you.”

“That color should be banned from the spectrum.  Puce is not a color for any article of clothing, much less a suit.  I wear ugly polyester pants all day in the kitchen, Napoleon, I will not wear it to dinner as well.”

Vetis looked over at the two men arguing and his head began to sing.  It was them, the pair the trickster lost.  Granted, it looked for awhile as if he’d been successful, then that busybody Micah got involved.  Bastard angel!  Those two would have been theirs by now if he hadn’t.  What a perfect souvenir to take home… two sodomites!  Vetis was very happy. Lucifer would be blown away… maybe he’d give him two legions…

                                                                                                ^^^^

The day he decided to move, it was raining and cold – a very good sign.  He preferred these days for spreading his particular brand of mischief.  He lounged on the porch of Vinea, the wine shop of his intended target.  Napoleon was on edge around him, both men were really, but neither knew why.  Vetis liked it that way.

The blond came out of their house and looked around.  Vetis had thought long and hard, heh, very hard, about taking the blond instead, but he looked into those blue eyes and saw something that, well it didn’t scare him.  He was a frigging demon after all.  But the look set him back and made him cautious.

“Did Janice kick you out?”  Chef was attempting to be social.  Vetis, no, Velon smiled at him

“No, I like this weather,” he said, letting through a trace of Scottish brogue.  “It reminds me of home.  Do you ever miss home?  Russia, I mean.”

“Not for a long time.”  Chef leaned against the railing and studied the sky.  “And to use an old cliché, home is where the heart is.”

“Aye, that’s true.  And here you have Napoleon.”

“Yes.”

“You’re lucky.  Most of my relationships don’t last more than three or four days.”

“You’ll find someone, probably when you least expect it.”

 _You have no idea, human,_ he thought, but aloud, he said, “That’s what my Da used to say – there’s someone for everyone, Vel, and you’ve got to be patient.  Do you believe that?”

“I do.”

“What is the special tonight, Chef?”  The blond was studying him again and Vetis dropped his gaze to the planks of the porch.  This one bothered him – a lot.  It would be good to make him suffer.

“With this weather, I’m thinking Coc au Vin or perhaps a Shepherd’s Pie.”

“Will Napoleon be **coming** tonight?”  Vetis put heavy emphasis on the word, eyes flicking up to see if there was a reaction. 

“He and Matt are pretty busy working on a project, so I doubt it."

“Together?”

“Yes.” 

“You’re very trusting.”

“Yes.”   Then the blond was off and Vetis smiled, chuckling to himself.  This was going to be so, so good.

                                                                                                ^^^^

Vetis knocked on the front door, paused and then, as Velon, entered.  It was the first time he’d been inside the house and he looked around, noting as much as he could for later.  He smiled at the two.

“Can we do something for you, Velon?”  That was the redhead, Matt.  He was a whiner and Vetis wouldn’t dirty his hands with one of those.

“Rocky sent me over to get your plates and to bring dessert.  These are for now."  He carefully a small platter down on the coffee table in front of them.  He then placed a second smaller covered tray on the dining room table.  “These, I was led to believe, are for later.”

“Mmmm, truffles, wonder what Chef filled these with?” Matt grabbed the nearest one and bit into it.  “Strawberry.” He decided after a moment. 

 “Nothing like the olden days - white bread, American cheese, orange Jell-o.”

“There’s always room for Jell-o,” Matt quipped and Napoleon chuckled.

“Ah, the good old days.”  He poured a small measure of port into a glass and offered it to Matt.  Neither offered anything to Velon.  Why would they, he was just the hired help.

“To the good old days.”

“Will that be all?”  He purposefully drew their attention back to him, letting them know he felt the slight.

“That’s fine, Velon, thank you.”   Dismissed, just like that, not invited to sit and drink.  That might have swung the odds in Napoleon’s favor for a speedy death.  Now he’d suffer.  Excellent…

                                                                                                ^^^^

 

He watched the blood well around the tip of the knife.  He knew how to keep his knives sharp, razor sharp and perfectly honed for his purpose.

The man beneath him shuddered and responded, if only uncontrollably.  He hadn’t left much chance for his victim to move at all.  Spread eagled, opened for his pleasure and needs Vetis had to admit that this one was a fighter. 

He had thought long and hard about which one to take.  The blond, Chef, he would have been a wonderful prize, but, there was something in that man’s eyes that frightened even a demon like him.  Not that Vetis would have confessed the fear of a mere human to anyone.  The brunet, he set Vetis’ teeth on edge as well.  There was something about the pair, dangerous, only half concealed, but he had to admit Napoleon didn’t look very dangerous now.

Vetis could hear the man’s heart slowing down, a victim of shock, blood loss and dehydration.  Humans were such fragile things, not capable like as some _inferior_ beings though.  Weak, pitiful, without reserve.

He got up and retrieved a rag from the table to wipe the blood from his blade.  The reality was he was tiring of this human.  He couldn’t understand what the big thing had been.  This human was nothing…

He settled his weight upon the back of Napoleon’s thighs and Napoleon groaned.  Whether it was from the sheer weight of his body or in pain, Vetis didn’t care.  The sound was music to his ears.  He dropped his hand to cup the bruised and bloodied buttock of his victim.  Even now, the man tried to fight him, weak, but still an attempt.

“Now, none of that or Daddy will have to play, but you like that don’t you?”  He held a knife carefully so that Napoleon could see the blade as a low-burning kerosene lantern reflected off the steel. “You are tasty, but I find myself growing tired of you.  I think perhaps something younger, something fresher now. You and I will be parting ways soon I think, my dear, sweet, Napoleon.”

“You can count on it, you son of a bitch.” 

Vetis’ head jerked in the direction of the door and he caught the first bullet in the shoulder.  The impact tossed him away from Napoleon and into the wall.  The pain was enlightening if not pleasant.  So this is what it meant to hurt.  There was a second explosion and his knee exploded.  He started to scream then, a sound he cherished in others, not so much for himself.  He’d never felt such an intensity and even now a small part of his brain set the sensation aside. 

Vetis’ body seemed to take on a life of its own twitching and flailing around on the floor.  He had to suddenly admit that perhaps he’d made a mistake leaving Chef alive.  He should have sent him to Hell when he first had the chance.

 “Guess where the next one’s going?”  Vetis, no, Velon now looked imploringly into Chef’s face, searching for a modicum of pity or mercy.  He wailed when he saw neither.

Then Chef withdrew, back to the bed and his filth covered partner.  Vetis couldn’t get a handle on his body now.  At least now, Vetis would have the satisfaction of watching the last bit of his evilness played out.  He’d watch Chef recoil and shun his broken, no longer attractive partner.  There was nothing of Napoleon left to love; he’d been defiled, demoralized and destroyed, both physically and mentally.  This would make it all so, so sweet.  Lucifer would sing Vetis praises.

Except… not rejection, but… love?  Acceptance?  How was any of that possible?  He wanted to scream at the foolish human, revile him for his compassion as he unbound and kissed the man. Stupid, stupid humans…

 

Vetis retreated back into his own misery, letting it own him, making him writhe and scream.  Then he realized Napoleon was… moving?  How was that possible?

"Something  -- that urges caution, yes," the human whispered in Vetis’  face, one hand braced on the wall and the other pressing the silencer hard against Velon's chest.  "Yes.  But you should have been afraid of _me_."

Vetis panicked for a second.  In human shape, he could die and that would have very bad consequences back home.  He went for another route.  "You're going to kill me," he sobbed, "don't kill me, don't kill me…" 

"Kill you?  Oh no.  Much worse.  Going to let you _live_." 

The bullet ripped into his groin and Vetis’ eyes widened more than he thought possible.  The noise he made now he’d once heard a child make as he tortured it to death.    _What an experience this has been_ he thought as he prepared to abandon this shell. But somehow, he lived through it; this body was still not ready to surrender its grip upon this mortal plane. 

Vetis had come to at the hospital, chained to his bed, a man with a gun stationed by his side.  He was aware, but couldn’t quite convince his body to obey him.   He couldn’t leave it, it refused to die.  That was his first indication that other forces might be at play.  Vetis started watching the shadows, shying and retreating away from strangers, his eyes distrustful and frantic. 

Many, many shadows came to talk to him, whispering in his ears, asking him so many, too many questions.  He shouted at some of them, driving them away with his curses.  Some screamed back at him, the voice accusatory and angry.  He whimpered at others and they petted his head, telling him that all would be taken care of.  Those were the one who concerned him the most.

In time his body healed, although his knee was gone.  It was inflexible and he walked with a limp.  His shoulder healed better, but even that no longer did as he asked.  His penis, he had a strange tube there now.  In short, the two men had taken their toll upon him.

The next time he saw them, it was at trial – his trial.  He tried to unnerved Napoleon, but he just smiled and looked instead at Chef, his voice strong, his manner unshaken and calm.  And their attorney unnerved him – there was something different about the man. 

Vetis’ attorney tried to paint a picture of Napoleon as a man who wallowed in sin and deserved what vengeance Velon, a poor young man who had been abused and tortured himself as a young child, had unleashed upon him.  The attorney, Vetis wasn’t entirely sure he wasn’t a demon himself, spoke in heart wrenching detail of how horrible both men had treated and tormented Velon with their antagonistic and wanton lifestyle.

Vetis almost choked himself a few times as he listened to the portrait being created.  This man, if not a minion of the devil, was certainly one in training.  Still he remained calmed and serene, a broken shell of what he had been.

And for a few moments, it almost seemed to work.  Then he saw them, Raziel, Hadraniel, and Sammael floating vaporous among the living, frightening even in their tremulous state.

He’d come unglued and started screaming, evil vile things, lashing out at the pitiful humans around him.  The humans, they were surprised at first and he’d almost reached Napoleon when Sammael, the Venom of God, wrapped himself around the man, protecting him, fiery swords raised to stave Vetis off.

He’d been dragged back to his cell and threatened.  He was beyond caring now.  His fate was inevitable and he had but one last trick up his sleeve.  He had thrown himself into the corner of the room and curled up in as much of a ball as this broken shell permitted.

They left him and he worked quickly, fashioning a noose from his clothes.  If nothing else, he was going to make sure that pitiful human, the one who was foolish enough to agree to the exchange in the first place never got the joy of Paradise.  If Vetis was going to Hell, Velon was going with him. 


End file.
